


Tender Be Our Souls, But Not Our Bodies Tonight

by MistyRay00



Series: Tenderness Series [3]
Category: Lost in Space (TV 2018)
Genre: Age Difference, Control Issues, Dealing With Trauma, Debbie is mentioned, Don is a softie, Emotional Porn, Established Relationship, F/M, Face-Sitting, Idiots in Love, Porn with Feelings, So Is Judy but she hates to admit it, Trust Issues, Trust Kink, emotional competence, so many feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:27:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22139281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistyRay00/pseuds/MistyRay00
Summary: She bares herself to him to her very root, and he knows the trust it takes her to give up that kind of control.Which is exactly what makes this kind of game so, so heady.
Relationships: Judy Robinson/Don West
Series: Tenderness Series [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1582006
Comments: 20
Kudos: 77





	Tender Be Our Souls, But Not Our Bodies Tonight

Will sits loudly crunching his breakfast as he animatedly spits sentence fragments between bites. “Dad is taking me... collect soil samples...” 

“Sounds like the height of excitement around here,” Don says, voice not fully awake yet, despite the fact the swagger in his step is already present. 

He takes his seat next to Judy and tries to make it seem casual when he taps his foot against hers. She gives no sign of facial recognition, but she drags her foot the slightest bit up his calf under the table. They’ve gotten good at seeming neutral at the other’s presence, but sneaking in what they can. The hours before bed hardly feel like enough, as desperate for sleep as they are at the end of each demanding day. 

John speaks up to clarify, “We’re going to walk the length of the beach, see if the soil changes near the rock formations. If it’s even slightly less sandy, I think we can manage to start a garden.”

“So, we’re getting pretty comfy here, then?” Penny asks, clearly wondering what they all are: if they’re stuck here for good. It’s been three months, after all. 

Maureen seems to feel the shift in the room, and moves to explain the timeframe of her plan of using the solar panels to harness power for the Jupiter. It’s been in place since the first weeks they’ve been here, but it’s moving slowly, especially given the cloudiness of the planet has a propensity for. 

“We’ll keep our eyes out for other solutions too, in fact, I plan on using today to do some scouting, taking some data scans from out in the sea, double checking the tide patterns. Penny, I could use a second pair of hands if you’re willing.” 

She grimaces, but nods. “I’ll get on my gear after I feed Smith.” 

“I’ll run the checks on the panel securings, then get back to working on the tertiary life support systems for the lower deck,” adds Don. 

“Don, you shouldn’t be irritating the burn on the back of your hand. It needs at least another day before you put gloves back on.” Judy’s voice is even, her facts clinical. But her eyes are worried. 

He notices. But going without argument would give him away worse than anything short of someone finding them lip locked, hands in each other’s hair. He doesn’t have to try hard to remember how her hands feel on his scalp. They were there just last night, after all. He does have to try hard for that to not get his lower half too interested. 

“It’s seen much worse, Doctor Robinson, and the life support...”

Maureen cuts him off getting up to vacate the room, “Judy, stay back and make sure he takes the rest day, please?”

Judy nods, but she’s trying not to break into a smile. They’re going to be alone for the majority of the day. Despite Smith, her confinement is pretty sound proof. Especially if they use Don’s roo... 

“Make sure he gets that rest now, will you, Judy?” Penny’s the only one left in the room, carrying a plate to Smith’s space. She bats her eyelashes dramatically for emphasis. 

“Shh!! You are so bad at whispering it should be outlawed,” Judy hisses back. 

“And you’re not nearly as good at hiding things as you think you are, after all, I found out months ago.” 

“And it’s going to stay being only you.” Judy speaks with a firmness that would put just about anyone else on edge. 

Penny finally looks at her, more earnestly than the teasing session calls for. “It will. But, just know, it’s probably only a matter of time before someone else figures it out. You should tell them while you both have the chance to. You and I both know how weird it’s gonna get if they figure it out first.” 

She hates that she’s right, and she hates that she can’t do anything about it either way. Don still needs time. If she’s honest with herself, she also still wants him all to herself with no questions surrounding them. The more... physical aspect of their relationship would likely be misunderstood. Not that she would volunteer that information, but the size of the ship made her face that chance more than she’d like. 

Judy nods to Penny. “I know.” 

Penny glances around the room before taking a step closer. “You two aren’t actually...?” She wiggles her eyebrows to finish her question. 

Judy immediately feels her cheeks betray her, even as her mouth opens to give a lie that doesn’t come. 

Penny clamps her eyes shut. “Annnnd instantly sorry I asked because that mental picture wasn’t worth it.” She pivots away. “I’m gonna feed Smith before this gets any colder.”

Making a sweeping gesture with her arm, Judy steps aside. “Please do.”

Only one step taken, Penny turns back around. “You know, as much as I don’t want to know certain scarring details, I’m here if you need someone to talk to about it.” 

Any slight annoyance is washed away in a wave of sudden affection. Penny was always perceptive in a way most people could never hope to be. It was hard sometimes, keeping it all in. Judy swallows. “Thank you,” is all she says, but she knows Penny hears the crack in her voice, knows she hears the rest of what she’s too proud to say. 

  
  


Judy waits a full five minutes after everyone's gone to go find Don. She checks his room, but he’s not in there. 

She turns to check back down the hall, halfway through calling his name, when she’s lifted off the ground by the backs of her thighs. The world is spinning, but he’s against her, solid, anchoring, pressing her into the wall outside his room. His smile is warm against her cheek, and it only takes her a moment longer to gain the coordination to lock her legs behind his back and shove her hips against his. 

There’s a deep hum of appreciation from him before he’s kissing her soundly. The catch in her breath is barely noticeable before she’s slipping her tongue against his bottom lip, and he’s letting her in. 

He doesn’t even really notice her hands moving to his head before he feels the sharp pull of hair on his scalp, hard. 

He pulls back, assessing, a single eyebrow quirked in question. “No gentle this time, huh?”

She’s nodding. 

“Need to hear you, Doc. You want this?”

As many times as they’ve done this, he always asks. As many times as they’ve done this, she knows it’s to be certain she consents, but also knows how hearing her say she wants him gets under his skin in just the right way. She doesn’t mind playing his game. 

“Please, Don. Fuck me.”

If the words alone weren’t enough to send him to his grave, he’s looking up at him with those damn pleading puppy eyes. The faux innocence with the filthy words... yeah, there’s no universe that she isn’t the death of him. 

But she’s also the resurrection of an even better man than one she kills every time. 

Because what happens between them is as profound as it is pornographic. He’s more himself than he’s ever been, and it carries outside their stolen moments after dark. It’s a confidence unlike any of his other cockiness. It's sometimes terrifying: how deeply his very being’s roots are tangled with hers in a way he knows will rip him apart if they’re ever forced to separate. 

In the way they likely will.

No amount of self-deprecation or deceit covers the fact he knows it’s not just him. She bares herself to him to her very root, and he knows the trust it takes her to give up that kind of control. 

Which is exactly what makes this kind of game so, so heady. 

They’re still against the wall outside his room,

and as much as it kills her to move away from the rub of his clothed erection between her thighs, she wants to do this without the barrier of cloth. 

He’s discerning of her in a way she could only dream of before, so of course he sees it. But it’s a little different tonight, so he whispers against her ear, voice as scratchy as his beard against her cheek. 

“Get on my bed, princess.”

She doesn’t think her whimper is audible, but the chuckle from behind her as she walks to the bed says it probably was. 

There’s a time not long ago being vulnerable enough to whimper around him would have near petrified her. But the way he loves her... makes her unafraid. 

She’s bold in just about anything in life except these kind of moments. Where she shows the soft underbelly of her mind. 

Now there’s a quiet assurance underlying existence itself knowing he knows her deepest places, mentally, physically, and emotionally, and he loves her there. 

It’s funny: how being yourself fully allows you to be things you never considered letting yourself be before. For him, it’s his depth and sincerity. For her, it’s her want to give up control just as much as she fights to obtain it. 

At least in moments like these. 

So when he pins both her wrists to the bed with one hand and cups her breast with the other, she fights back not fear, not dread, only a moan. 

He leans back on his knees. 

“You know, half the fun of having the place to ourselves,” he pauses to pull his T-shirt over his head, “is that we don’t have to be quiet.”

He’s crawling back over her, keeping his weight on his elbows, but pushing the edge of smothering her. 

It’s a funny tightrope he walks with this. Being confined and Judy have a history. 

_ Your heart picks up. Starts the pounding of blood in your ears.  _

But if Don West’s learned anything in life other than machinery, it’s how to channel adrenaline. As many things as she teaches him, he’s glad he can help her with this one. 

They started slow with this one. He knows to be careful still, to keep alert for anything in her eyes to change. 

“What’s your word, _ Hermosa _ ?” 

He’s reminding her she can have control back the moment she needs it. 

But she doesn’t want it back. Not when his arms and chest look like that, holding himself up. Not when he calls her that, with the way his voice sounds even using a single word of his first language. 

She reaches one hand up to trace his jaw, fingers catching on his beard, smiling at the ridiculousness that is her safe word. “Feathers.” 

He smiles back, then looks to the side, trying to recall something. “Speaking or which, I wonder where the little lady who inspired that ...” 

A brief glance to the door, then his eyes are back on her. “Can’t have wandered far. Plus, she’s an independent bird if I ever met one, doesn’t really need me.” 

He takes a single strand of her hair in between two fingers, pulling slightly. “Seems I have a type.” 

A wave of fondness washes over her, and she’s just about to start grinding against him for him to get the idea to start already, when he pulls up and off her again. 

The sound of protest is halfway out her mouth when he speaks first. “Take your clothes off.” 

It’s embarrassing, really. How wet just his voice gets her. 

He undoes his belt as she unhooks her bra and takes it and her shirt off in one go. 

His eyes remain on her as she rids herself of the rest of her clothing. 

She’s magnetic, all gorgeous dark skin and loose curls and bright, sharp eyes. He hopes the falter in his normally sure stride isn’t too noticeable. As many times as he’s seen her naked...and yet here he is. 

“What do you want?” he asks her, standing over her as she sits on the bed. He tucks a finger under her chin. 

“Let me suck your cock?”

He remembers to breathe, to his credit. She didn’t talk like that when they started this. 

“Look who’s got a dirty mouth now. As much shit as you give me... oh, how the mighty have fallen, hmmm?” 

She catches the finger under her chin in her mouth, sucking the tip, then letting it go. “You gonna keep gloating? Or let me use my  _ dirty mouth _ ?”

“Fuck, you’re the best. Best person that ever lived.”

She rolls her eyes as she undoes the fastening on his pants. 

A thought occurs to him, and he puts a hand on the back of hers, halting her. Judy Robinson is terrible at asking for things when she needs them, and that sometimes makes things like this terrifying for him. 

“This about wanting to? Or needing some leverage back? Because you don’t need to do this, we can just..”

“No, it’s not that, I promise.” She loves how well he knows her, how he’ll stop everything to make sure she’s nothing less than one hundred percent into it. 

“In fact, I was going to ask.. here, hold on.”

She lies down on the bed, positioning herself on her back so that her head is near his crotch. 

He’s sure his surprise shows on his face. “Like that? You sure, princess?” 

“Don, I’m fine. Just go easy.” 

He doesn’t have a lot of protest left; his dick is so hard it hurts, and the press of his pants is hardly helping, making him over-sensitive. 

It’s difficult getting his zipper down from her angle, but she manages with a little of his help. 

He fists over himself once, twice, before holding steady for her to take him in her mouth. 

She’s too eager, and she can tell he’s a little desperate for some form of relief, so she skips her usual lick-tease, letting him go as deep as he wants. She can’t control anything here; she’s completely reliant on him paying attention to her signals. The power game is one thing by itself, but watching him fight to stay alert as he slowly sinks into her mouth: that’s another thing. Her legs snap together, seeking friction of some sort. 

He reaches his hands down to play with her breasts, fingers starting a rhythm of flick, then soothe.

She hums in approval, which sends Don to a clenched jaw and a quiet muttered curse that’s she’s pretty sure isn’t English. 

The more he loses a grip on things, the more Spanish he uses. It’s a good motivation for her. 

He places his hands behind her head, tangling in her hair. She’s briefly worried about his burn on the back of his left one rubbing against the sheets, but then he’s tilting it just enough to have no friction on the spot. 

“ _ Abre las piernas _ ,” his voice is wrecked, and he’s finally starting to thrust a little into her, testing what she’s comfortable with. 

Her high school Spanish is rusty, but she’s pretty sure she caught the gist of it. It’s hard to concentrate with the taste of him on her tongue, watching him slowly become more and more unraveled above her, letting out moans that he wouldn’t risk if everyone weren’t gone. 

“And play with that pretty pussy for me.” 

She does as she’s told, spreading, not really surprised to find a mess already. 

A tap on his thigh is her signal that he’s gone as far as she can take, which he instantly adheres to. She keeps breathing through her nose. 

She’s an absolute sight. Looking up at him, swallowing half his cock, playing with herself. Then she brings the hand not busy between her legs up to cup his balls, then hums around him when she finds some spot that has her arching off the bed... 

He pulls back quickly. “Fucking...”

She sits up, looking a little concerned, and he shakes his head, dismissing it. “Just... give me a second.” 

Once he catches two breaths he explains, “Not done with you yet, and you’re gettin’ too good at that.” He winks at her, then moves back over to her, brushing a knuckle across her cheek. 

“Ride my face?”

She squirms. Whether it’s because the idea is strange to her or because she wants it, he’s not sure. 

“I’ll try it,” she responds, and he’ll take it. 

Then he’s on his back and she’s crawling over him, and as soon as she’s close enough, he uses the backs of her thighs to pull her closer, dropping her over his mouth, eager as ever to get her taste on his tongue. 

“Don, wait,” she laughs, pushing up to her knees and off of him. “I don’t wanna break your nose or something.”

He laughs too. “You’re not gonna break it.” He’s pulling her back down, and she’s reluctantly allowing it. “Plus, even if you did, it wouldn’t be a first, and I have it on good word there’s a Doctor that knows how to reset it, however painfully.” 

She shakes her head. “Big baby.”

Oh, how far they’ve come from that. 

Any unsureness dissipates when his tongue meets her skin. In ten seconds flat, he has her spread open with his fingers and he’s mapped her clit with jolting accuracy, mercilessly applying pressure. Her cry rings through the hallway, and she’s capable of noting only for a second that’s because they didn’t ever close the door. 

His beard has grown recently, or, more specifically, he’s let it, because she asked him to. Because she likes the way it looks, but also for this specific purpose, if not yet knowing how good it feels in this specific position. 

Another couple minutes, and she can’t hold her weight up, the waves of pleasure are so intense, and she’s dropped on him, practically sitting on his jaw. 

He mutters something and pulls her in even more, beard right up against her most sensitive place, mouth working in that way that comes from an intimidating amount of experience. 

One more press of his tongue, and she stills her movements above him even as her thighs shake. 

He keeps going until she stops him, when it’s too much. 

When she’s come back to herself, she shoots back down his body, finally stripping him of his pants on the way. 

He’s looking down at her, and he wonders if it’s obvious on his face how mesmerized he is. 

“Still want me to fuck you?”

She blushes. 

He can’t help the smug smile. “Your words, not mine.”

She’ll show him. Getting down on her hands and knees and arching her back, she looks over her shoulder back at him, satisfied that he seems taken off guard and a little thunderstruck. “Well?” 

  
  


He’s behind her in a second, eyes drinking her in hungrily, but still apprehensive. 

They’ve tried this before, and the exposure was just an overload for her. 

He drags a hand down her spine, stopping to rest on her lower back, testing the waters. 

She’s still looking over her shoulder, wiggling her ass a little, again hoping he’ll get the fuck on with it. He shoots her a look of questioning, sliding his hand down to cup her ass. 

“If it gets to be too much, I’ll let you know.”

“Promise me, baby.”

She is completely shocked at herself for loving that nickname and not finding it patronizing. 

But that’s what Don West does to her. He gives her the space and platform she needs to grow, ready to support her if she wants, never intimidated at her becoming an even stronger person. Never repelled by the moments of falling apart in the process. Reminds her how those moments take the most strength of all. That trust isn’t weakness. And he recognizes the price she pays to expose herself to him. 

She recognizes how worthy he is of that trust. He’s a better man than he’ll ever give himself credit for. God, she loves him. With every fiber of her being. 

It’s like that in all of their relationship, and it’s a momentous thing, but it’s the same force that makes her happy with little things like “baby.” 

It’s the same thing that makes her want him to take her like this. 

“I promise.” 

He’s gentle, caressing with the hand not occupied lining them up. 

And she’s thankful, she really is, that he’s conscious about his size, about how this position makes it especially intense, but she didn’t ask for gentle tonight. 

So the moment she can, she thrusts her hips back swiftly, stopping a little short at the immense sensation, but she thinks that’ll paint him the picture. 

She glances over her shoulder to make sure. 

His jaw is clenched, and his reply comes with what takes him obvious effort. “No gentle. Got it.” 

Then he’s gripping her hips, pulling her back onto him the rest of the way, pushing his body into hers at the same time. 

The sound that echoes out the door is due to both of them, this time.

They find their rhythm, bodies meeting fast, fingers gripping skin or sheets, neither bothering to muffle any noise. 

She’s so lost to it, and the way she looks bent in front of him, the way she feels... he’s consumed with her, and it sucker punches him in the gut, punctuated by a corkscrew of pleasure down his spine so strong he doubles over, bracketing her body with his. 

He quickly realizes his mistake, how closed in she is like this. “Sorry, let me...” he goes to shift himself back, but she grips the arm holding his weight off her. 

“No... stay.” She’s breathless, but firm. She grabs his hand. “I’ll squeeze if I need to stop, but I don’t think I will.” 

He nods, lacing his fingers with hers at their adjoined hands. She drops to her elbows, and he does the same, body over her, covering her. 

She feels safe. 

Love has a way of abolishing fear. 

Their movement is all him now, she doesn’t have leverage like this. His mouth is right by her ear, and he starts whispering against her, endearments tender, thrusts rough. 

“You’re doing so well...”

“Fuck, Judy…. the way… you feel... wrapped around me”

She’s saying his name, nuzzling against his face with hers, and he’s going on whispering, and she picks up bits and pieces as she fights to keep her mind alert. 

“ _Mi alma_...”

“ _Eres mi todo_...”

That, beyond anything, sends her crashing, strong and loud.

Their hands are still clasped, and he’s gripping hers hard as he chases his end.

She tilts her head to the side, catching his lips, kissing him wet and vicious. He pulls back to catch his breath, and she breathes against him, barely audible “And you’re mine.”

But he must have heard her, because it’s one more snap of his body against her, and he stills. Judy feels the full-body shudder as he muffles himself against her neck. Habit of their nights that have to be quiet, likely. 

They collapse apart, still close due to the little real estate granted on his single bunk.

She grabs his hand again. “I love you.” 

Don smiles, bopping her nose with a finger before pulling her in close. He’ll never get tired of the way she looks at him. “I love you too.”

They’re quiet for a moment, just basking in the afterglow. 

He breaks the silence. “We’re in too deep, Doc.”

They both know what logic has to offer any future they have. It’s either fighting space chaos for infinity or being forced to part ways if they ever arrive on Alpha Centauri. 

She nods, grasping him tighter involuntarily at the thought of losing him. “I know.” 

He kisses her forehead, breathing in the smell of her hair as his eyes drift shut.

  
  


********

It had been a good day for John. The soil samples looked promising, and Will was in contagiously good spirits. 

He’d had the shower first, and everyone would soon be out for dinner when they’d had their turns.

He’s the only one in the center room, grabbing something out of a box, when he hears the shade of Smith’s enclosure open. 

He grits his teeth, already starting to exit the premises. “Save your breath, whatever it is.”

“You sure about that? I heard the most fascinating thing today while everyone was gone, well, everyone but Judy and Don, but I guess that’s what makes hearing  _ moaning _ of all things  _ very _ interesting.”

He stills his step, turning around before he can think better of it. 

“What?” 

**Author's Note:**

> Tune in next time for John Robinson playing Nancy Drew.


End file.
